The hour at which I arrived in London precluded all hope of my finding

Mr. Bruff at his place of business. I drove from the railway to his

private residence at Hampstead, and disturbed the old lawyer dozing

alone in his dining-room, with his favourite pug-dog on his lap, and his

bottle of wine at his elbow.

I shall best describe the effect which my story produced on the mind of

Mr. Bruff by relating his proceedings when he had heard it to the end.

He ordered lights, and strong tea, to be taken into his study; and he

sent a message to the ladies of his family, forbidding them to disturb

us on any pretence whatever. These preliminaries disposed of, he first

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examined the nightgown, and then devoted himself to the reading of

Rosanna Spearman's letter.

The reading completed, Mr. Bruff addressed me for the first time since

we had been shut up together in the seclusion of his own room.

"Franklin Blake," said the old gentleman, "this is a very serious

matter, in more respects than one. In my opinion, it concerns Rachel

quite as nearly as it concerns you. Her extraordinary conduct is no

mystery NOW. She believes you have stolen the Diamond."

I had shrunk from reasoning my own way fairly to that revolting

conclusion. But it had forced itself on me, nevertheless. My resolution

to obtain a personal interview with Rachel, rested really and truly on

the ground just stated by Mr. Bruff.

"The first step to take in this investigation," the lawyer proceeded,

"is to appeal to Rachel. She has been silent all this time, from

motives which I (who know her character) can readily understand. It

is impossible, after what has happened, to submit to that silence any

longer. She must be persuaded to tell us, or she must be forced to tell

us, on what grounds she bases her belief that you took the Moonstone.

The chances are, that the whole of this case, serious as it seems now,

will tumble to pieces, if we can only break through Rachel's inveterate

reserve, and prevail upon her to speak out."

"That is a very comforting opinion for _me_," I said. "I own I should like

to know."

"You would like to know how I can justify it," inter-posed Mr. Bruff. "I

can tell you in two minutes. Understand, in the first place, that I

look at this matter from a lawyer's point of view. It's a question of

evidence, with me. Very well. The evidence breaks down, at the outset,

on one important point."

"On what point?"

"You shall hear. I admit that the mark of the name proves the nightgown

to be yours. I admit that the mark of the paint proves the nightgown

to have made the smear on Rachel's door. But what evidence is there to

prove that you are the person who wore it, on the night when the Diamond

was lost?"




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